I hadn't done anything unsafe, dangerous, stupid. At least, I couldn't remember anything. I haven't done much, really. But I needed a follow up from several months ago. I'd missed doing that. One needs to know. We need to be aware.
The nurse came in. (He was a very handsome bear). Goodness. He put me at ease. He drew blood, he did the quick-test, too. As we waited for the quick-test to do its thing, I talked. I confessed, I shared. He told me that he had been married, too. Has a son, now grown. He shared his story with me. And he let me talk. I cried. I really cried. I guess the tension, anxiety, whatever.
Times up. Results. Negative.
I cried more. He let me hug him, and he just held me. And let me cry. Such a relief.
Every now and then, we all need to have an HIV test. We just need to do it. What if it were positive? I had already decided that I have come to far to even think about giving up. We'll deal with it. Whatever we need to do. What ever I need to do.
No turning back. No giving up. And I am so grateful. Do the test.